Shadows of Nightmares
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: A very angsty story about the Teen Titans and how they came together. Get out the Kleenex!
1. Fire

Fire.  
There was always fire, no matter where they went, no matter what happened.  
Always the fire.  
  
The crush of metal. The gurgle of gasoline. The whirr of engines. And through it all, the malicious crackling of the flames. He gritted his teeth, attempting futilely to block out the memory of the pain, the ever- present pain.  
  
There was a fire that night, a small candle set on the floor. Around the wall were the lights- purple, green, white, gold. She buried her face in her hands, momentarily hiding the glow that kept her from being swallowed in the darkness.  
  
The flickering light danced and swirled around the empty shell that had once held her soul. He tried to remember that it wasn't truly her, that her real self was safe, but his mind held fast to the image of her delicate body swallowed by light and melting into ashes.  
  
In her heart there was a fire, and in her soul there was a fire, and in her hands there was a fire. There was no way her frail self could stand or withstand. She curled up tighter, forcing back the tears that threatened to choke her to death in its stranglehold.  
  
Without a doubt there was fire. It was everywhere, hungry and devouring. It drained his mind, lapped at his strength, it sucked at his sight. Nothing was safe in its path. He clenched his fists, still feeling the hot breath on his face, and never remembering where it came from. 


	2. Children

"Michael!" The young black woman stood on her back porch, calling. "Michael Lee Stone, you come here right now!"  
A child of about five years old popped up behind her. "Boo!" he shouted gleefully.  
Sara Stone laughed and scooped him up in her arms. "You silly boy," she said. "You did all that just to scare your momma?"  
"I did!" Michael giggled.  
Sara kissed his plump cheek. "You're a bad boy, Michael."  
"Why is he a bad boy?" a voice asked.  
"Daddy!" Michael squealed.  
Marcus took his son. "What have you been doing to your momma?" he asked, playfully deepening his voice.  
"Nothin'," Michael said, in all innocence. Sara laughed and hugged both of her men at once.  
  
*****  
  
"What is wrong with Mama?" Starfire asked.  
"She's got a chazzan inside of her," Blackfire said, bending down until she was nose to nose with her younger sister. "It's gonna eat her away until there's nothing left." Starfire burst into tears.  
Whitefire hit Blackfire. "That's not nice!" she told her twin. Whitefire held out her arms to the redheaded child. "Mama just doesn't feel very good."  
"If I sang, would she feel better?" Starfire hiccupped.  
"I'm sure she would," Whitefire smiled.  
  
*****  
  
"He's precious," Loran cooed, holding the newborn in her arms. "What's his name?"  
"He doesn't have a name yet," James Barfield said to his daughter- well, she wasn't really his daughter. "You can name him."  
Loran rested her elbow on the armrest of her wheelchair, easing some of the baby's weight. "Logan," she said. "Logan Barfield."  
"Logan and Loran," James smiled.  
"Is his immune system as weak as mine?" Loran asked, stroking Logan's dark hair.  
James shook his head. "No. I was able to fix the flaw in his DNA strands. But you both have the same abilities. You are, in every way, brother and sister."  
Loran kissed Logan's tiny fingers. "My baby brother," she whispered.  
  
*****  
  
"What have you done with the princess?" Twilight hissed.  
Indigo grinned and turned around, showing his sister the baby sack on his back and the little lavender head poking out. "She's fine," he reassured her. "She just fell asleep."  
Twilight lifted Raven, still sound asleep, out of the baby sack and held her in her arms. "Poor little thing," she fussed. "You wore her completely out."  
"She wore herself out," Indigo objected. "She was begging me to play with her." His grin faded. "She needs someone to play with her, after all she has to endure with her father."  
Twilight stroked the child's hair. "Do you know if he.hurts her like he did the other one?" she asked quietly.  
"What other one?" Raven murmured drowsily. She blinked.  
"So you are awake," Twilight said, changing the subject.  
Raven wriggled in her arms. "I want down," she insisted. "I want to get down and play thome more."  
"When are you going to break her of that lisp, Indigo?" Twilight demanded. "She's three. It's time she stopped."  
"She's a baby," Indigo shrugged, glad to have turned to a lighter problem.  
"Ith it bad that I lithp?" Raven asked, her small mouth curving into a panicked little O.  
"Not at all, sweetheart," Indigo said. "You're perfect the way you are."  
  
*****  
  
Robert poked his head into the room. "Lark?" he whispered.  
His little blonde wife smiled and beckoned to him. "He's sleeping," she whispered back, rocking their dark haired child in her arms. Robert bent and kissed Lark's lips. He'd married her straight out of high school and now, at just nineteen, she'd given birth to their first child. She was still nothing more than a child herself, and though she was nearly ten years younger than he, they loved each other.  
"Isn't he beautiful?" Lark sighed. "A little angel." She laughed softly as she smoothed the baby's hair. "But his name is too big for him."  
Robert sat on the bed, wrapping his arms around Lark. "Robert Edward Slainey is a good name," he objected.  
"But too long for him," Lark pointed out. She kissed the baby's tiny hand. "I'm going to call him Robin."  
"You just want to give him a bird name like yours," Robert said.  
"True," Lark giggled. She pressed her lips against her baby son's cheek. "Robin Slainey is a very nice name."  
  
*****  
  
Michael sighed in boredom as the airplane rumbled beneath him. "Aren't we there yet, Mom?" he complained.  
His mother reached over and patted his knee. "Not for a couple of hours, honey," she said. "Be patient."  
Michael sighed again and replaced his headphones over his ears. At thirteen, he was already a foot taller than his mother and eye level with his father. He was strong and muscular, catching the eye of several of the high school football coaches. Even though he was one of the youngest players at Cross Creek Middle School, he was the starting quarterback for the team. He was an invincible tower of strength. Or at least he thought he was. All boys think they are.  
  
*****  
  
Starfire tucked a strand of her short red hair behind ear. "Blackfire!" she hollered. "You hid the bucket from me again!"  
No answer. Starfire sighed and went searching for the well bucket. Her sister was always playing pranks on her, and Whitefire was always rescuing her from the pranks. After their mother's death when Starfire was eight, Whitefire had become a mother to them. Their father, Cometfire, worked in the mines, barely scraping up enough money to keep his family alive. At ten years old, Starfire's hands were as calloused as a seasoned miner's. But she preferred working at home to her other option- slavery.  
"Blackfire!" Starfire called again. "Where are you?"  
"Star?" The voice was Whitefire's. "Come here, Starfire." Her oldest sister was sitting by the hearth, her long golden hair hanging down her back and her tan face pale. She held out her arms to her young sister. "Star," Whitefire whispered. "Starry, our father's dead."  
  
*****  
  
"Loran, dear," James called. "I need your help."  
Loran wheeled herself in the direction of her creator's voice. "What is it?" she asked.  
"It's Logan," James sighed. In his hands he held a little green fox pup. "He morphed again and now he can't remember how to get back."  
Loran shook her head and changed into a vixen. Gently nuzzling the baby fox, she led her younger brother back into human form. "Silly child," she said affectionately, settling back in her wheelchair with Logan on her lap. "When will you learn?"  
Logan swung his short legs. "Never," he answered cheerily. He kissed his sister on the cheek with a big smack.  
"Logan," James warned. "Remember what I told you about Sister being sick."  
Loran hugged her brother. "I would rather get sick than not be able to hold him," she insisted vehemently.  
James sighed and touched his daughter's long green hair. "As you wish," he said. But his eyes were worried as he eyed Loran's thin body and bony face.  
  
*****  
  
"Indigo," Raven whispered. "Indigo!" She began to cry, her energy flow rattling through her little room like a tsunami.  
One of the maids opened the door. "Zinthos above, what is wrong with you?" she asked, rubbing her eyes blearily. Raven only cried harder. "What happened?"  
"I had a bad dream," Raven wailed. "It was my mother! She was calling for me, calling and calling, and I couldn't come!"  
"It was just a dream," the maid said. "Your mother's been dead since you were born."  
"Dead?" Raven whispered.  
The maid didn't hear the fear in the child's voice. "A teenager that His Majesty took a fancy to. Killed herself as soon as you popped out. Died in a garbage heap." The maid yawned. "So stop worrying yourself sick over silly dreams."  
"My mother's dead?"  
"Dead and gone these nine years past," the maid reaffirmed.  
Raven screamed. The child sat straight up in bed, screaming and screaming until her face turned blue. The entire palace trembled under the force of her cries, but nothing broke except the girl's heart.  
A guard burst into the room. "Get her up!" he ordered the maid. "The king is furious. He wants to see her."  
  
*****  
  
Robert checked his watch. Only one more hour until he could go home to Lark and Robin. His job at the hospital meant many hours away from them, but he got good pay. He had been made the head of the cybernetic prosthetics unit, a prestigious position. But he kept wishing he could be home. Lark would be fixing dinner by now, a kerchief over her hair and an apron swallowing up her tiny body. And Robin would be sleeping in his playpen, waiting for his father to come home.  
"Slainey!" One of the interns ran in, his face deathly white. "Dr. Slainey, your house is on the news. It's burning!"  
Robert didn't wait another minute. He bolted out of his office.  
  
*****  
  
Michael frowned. "Mom? Is the plane supposed to shake like that?" he asked.  
Sara Stone was pale. "I don't know, honey," she said. "Where's your father?"  
"I think he's in the back," Michael said. "Is the plane gonna go down?"  
"No, honey," his mother tried to smile. "I'll just go look for your father." She kissed the top of her son's head. "I'll be back in just a second."  
Michael turned up his music. But the plane continued to shake beneath him. A voice came over the intercom, garbled under the loud, frenetic beats of his rap CD. He could see fear spread over the faces of the other passengers. There was no time for him to think. His stomach lurched the way it did at the peak of a roller coaster, but this coaster had no tracks. His ears popped madly as the plane sped down, the green ground coming closer and closer. The last thing he remembered was a sharp whoosh and heat on the back of his neck.  
When he awoke, the first thing he felt was pain. There was pain everywhere. His arms, his legs, his chest, his head. He couldn't remember anything. His mind scrambled for something familiar, but all he could come up with was a jumble of numbers he faintly remembered to be his zip code. As he passed into unconsciousness again he heard voices.  
"A survivor! We found the first survivor!  
  
*****  
  
Starfire bit her lip hard. Her hands were cracked and bleeding from scrubbing the mosiac floors for so long. Her left ankle was sore and swollen. A manacle was locked around it, keeping her grounded. It was impervious to her starbolts; the metal showed wear from her attempts. "Don't think sad thoughts," she whispered to herself. Instead, she turned her thoughts to the escape plan Blackfire had created. She would escape tonight. Together, they would run away from the palace and hide on some remote planet. Maybe someday she would be able to return home. Someday, when she didn't need to scrub floors.  
  
*****  
  
Loran's scrawny shoulders trembled as she coughed. Small spots of blood stained the cloth she held to her mouth.  
"Loran?" Logan whispered. She smiled wanly and held out her arms to him. Logan tumbled into her embrace, shaking.  
They could hear the rioters outside the laboratory, rattling the gates and shaking the walls. "Why are they so angry?" Logan whispered.  
"They think Father was wrong to create us," Loran whispered back. "They think we aren't real people." Her cough started up again. Logan hid his face in her shoulder.  
James stumbled into the room. "They've broken through the first barrier," he said, his face white. "Loran, Logan. Get out of here, while you still can."  
Loran shook her head, her long dark hair swishing against Logan's face. "I can't," she whispered hoarsely. "You know very well I'm dying, Father. I'll stay with you."  
"So will I," Logan said.  
"No," Loran said, tilting his face so she could look him in the eyes. "Baby, you have to go. I want you to live."  
"No!" Logan shouted. "I'm not gonna go! I'm not gonna leave you, Loran!"  
"You have to," she sighed. "Please, don't make this harder, baby." She kissed his face. "I love you, Logan."  
Logan hugged his sister tightly. "I love you too," he said.  
Loran kissed Logan on the mouth, pouring her life-spirit into him with one last, desperate breath. "Go!" she whispered hoarsely.  
A sheet of drywall and stone collapsed with Loran's lifeless body. Logan changed into a dragonfly and flew through the cracks in the walls.  
When the burning laboratory was only a speck of light behind him, Logan fell to the earth in human form and curled up in the snow, sobbing.  
  
*****  
  
Raven's whole body trembled. Dressed in only her nightclothes, her long lavender hair curling to her waist, tear stains on her face, she was a pathetic sight.  
Trigon was on his throne, crouching like a gigantic bird of prey. "Dark-bird," he growled. "You were crying again, little Dark-bird."  
"Is my mother dead?" Raven whispered.  
Suddenly Trigon was no longer on his black glass throne but in front of her, his hooked red nose inches from her face, fire looming over him. "Dead," he repeated. "Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead."  
Raven fell to her knees, sobbing. A huge clawed hand grasped her upper arm and lifted her off of the ground. Trigon held his daughter by the arm five feet above the obsidian floor. Her tears were flowing but no sound came as her eyes widened in shock and fear.  
"Crying," he rumbled. "Crying, little Dark-bird, is forbidden." His hand tightened around Raven's arm. "If you loved me, Dark-bird, you wouldn't cry."  
Still the tears flowed.  
Trigon's hand tightened and his claws ripped into the soft skin of the child's arm. "Don't you love me, Dark-bird?" he roared. "Your mother didn't love me, and do you know what happened to her? She is dead dead dead!"  
Raven screamed. Trigon grabbed her and pushed her to the floor. His hands were everywhere, hurting her. Blood soaked through her clothes and on to his claws.  
The heavy doors burst open. "Raven!" Indigo shouted. "King Trigon, you can't! Not like the other-"  
A heavy psychic bolt whipped from Trigon's hand and pinned Indigo against the wall. "The other, the other!" the demon king shouted. "Yes, yes, the other, the other!" His four yellow eyes, leering and dull, stared at Raven. "The other child didn't love me either. He didn't love me, and he is dead, dead, dead."  
Indigo choked as the black wind hand closed around his neck. Frantically he scrabbled for a grip, but there was nothing to hold on to. There was a final snap, and then the body was still.  
Raven's cries became the mourning wail of a banshee, as her childhood faded away in her terror and grief.  
  
*****  
  
Robert's tires squealed as he came to a stop in front of his house. Smoke and flames poured out of the windows. He pushed his way past the gawkers and grabbed the arm of the nearest firefighter. "Where is my wife?" he bellowed.  
The man pointed with a trembling hand to the house. "She-she ran back inside, sir," he said. "The little blonde woman. She ran back."  
Robert shoved the man aside and sprinted to the door. Two of the firemen grabbed him and yanked him back. "You can't!" the first one shouted. "No, you don't understand, they've got her, she's coming out!"  
The front door crumbled away, and through the flames and ashes stepped a firefighter holding a limp figure in his arms. A second one followed, holding a much smaller bundle.  
"Lark," Robert whispered faintly. "Robin."  
The second firefighter pulled off his mask and handed him the child. "Sir?" he said. "The boy's going to be all right. He has some burns on his face, but they don't seem too serious."  
Robert didn't take the baby. "And my wife?"  
"I'm so sorry. We lost her."  
For the next few days, Robert didn't know what he did, and he didn't care. The days were a bleary haze of insurance claims and funeral preparations.  
Through it all was the high, thin cries of the child.  
Yes, the child.  
That was why Lark ran inside.  
Lark ran in to get Robin.  
Robin lived.  
Lark died.  
Robin.  
Robin killed her.  
Robin killed her.  
Robin killed her.  
The thought burned in his brain by day and filled his nightmares at night. Every glance at the child's face was a reminder. Three marks crisscrossed over Robin's face, around his eyes. His long dark eyelashes had been singed off, and his eyesight had been badly damaged. But yet he lived.  
Run away? Too conspicuous.  
Murder? Too risky.  
Negligence? Too dangerous.  
An idea formed in Robert's mind.  
It was raining that night, a calm and steady downpour. Robin was tucked in the crook of his arm. To any other rider on the subway, he appeared to be a conscientious father taking his sleeping child home after a long day.  
He'd drugged Robin, just the slightest bit, to keep him from waking and crying. He wasn't sure if he would be able to keep the child quiet.  
The rain had quickened as Robert stepped out of the subway station. The city orphanage was just a block away. He laid the child down on the front step. Robin was wrapped in a yellow blanket, the one Lark had knitted with her own tiny hands when she was expecting him. A wave of memories washed over him as he remembered the fragile mother-to-be curled up on the bed they shared, yellow yarn heaped about her. But he closed his heart and pinned the note to the blanket.  
  
This is Robin. He is almost a year old. His mother loved him very much.  
  
The man disappeared on the subway, and was not seen in that city again.  
  
Ooh, this story has angst up street and down alley!!! I've never written anything this depressing before.tell me if it's any good. And don't worry, it's not over yet! 


	3. Robin

"Matron!" David hollered. "Robin's fighting again!"  
"Again?" she said. The towheaded orphan nodded so violently she was sure his head would bobble right off. "I'll be right there, dear." Matron, whose real name was Elizabeth, closed her desk and followed David.  
As usual, a crowd of children had gathered to watch Robin fight. This time the bane of the plucky five-year-old's wrath was a chunky eight-year- old by the name of Norman.  
Elizabeth reached over and picked up Robin. "Fight's over," she said. "Go back to what you were doing." The children scattered as one of the other workers took the wailing Norman by the hand. Robin didn't say anything, but gritted his small teeth and kicked Elizabeth's thigh. She didn't say anything either until they were in the safety of Elizabeth's small office.  
She set him down on her desk. "All right, Robin," she said. "What was it this time?"  
The little boy looked down. "He said my mother was a hooker," he said in a tiny voice. Two big tears rolled dripped from his scarred eyes, fogging up his thick glasses. Elizabeth stroked his dark hair away from his forehead. "It's all right, little one," she soothed. Robin locked his skinny arms her neck and sobbed. She let him cry for a little while, then set him back on the desk. "I'll get you cleaned up, and then it's up to your dorm for you, Robin." He nodded and bravely withstood the sting of hydrogen peroxide. Elizabeth patted the top of his head and sent him to his room.  
She sighed as she put away the brown plastic bottle. Robin was a holy terror; there was no doubt about that. But there was something about him that saddened her. Maybe it was just his appearance- his wide blue eyes strangely devoid of lashes, the scars crisscrossing his temples, the thick glasses, his startlingly pale skin against his black hair. He was one of the smallest children in the whole orphanage, and yet one of the toughest. She sighed again as the phone startled her out of her thoughts.  
"Hello. Saint Patrick's Orphan's Home," she said. "Elizabeth Newton speaking."  
"I'm calling about the mentor program," a deep male voice said.  
Elizabeth twined the phone cord around her fingers. "That's wonderful, sir," she said.  
"But only if I can have a certain child."  
"Which one?" she asked, the cord cutting off her circulation.  
"The small boy with the glasses."  
"Robin?" she said.  
"Is that the boy's name?" the voice asked.  
"Yes," Elizabeth said. "He has no last name; the state gave him Patricks, the last name given to foundlings."  
"I would like to have Robin Patricks to mentor, then," the man said. "My name is Nikolai Laren."  
  
*****  
  
Robin folded his arms across his skinny body. "No," he said flatly. "I don't want to go."  
"Why not?" Elizabeth asked. The little boy was perched in the chair across from her desk, his legs dangling above the floor.  
"He's an ax murderer," Robin said.  
"And you know that how?" Elizabeth challenged. He opened his mouth to argue and then snapped it shut. "See? Just go once, Robin. Promise to be on your best behavior."  
"Okay," the child answered sulkily. Elizabeth took him by the hand and led him into the main office of the orphanage.  
"Mr. Laren, this is Robin Patricks. Robin, this is Mr. Laren," she introduced.  
"It's nice to meet you, Robin," Mr. Laren said.  
The little boy stuck out his tongue and hid behind Elizabeth's skirt.  
"Robin!" she exclaimed.  
"It's all right," Mr. Laren said with a wave of his hand. "It's natural for him to suspicious of me."  
Elizabeth knelt in front of the boy. "Be very good, Robin," she warned. He nodded, his glasses slipping down his nose. She adjusted them for him and patted his cheek as she sent him out the door.  
  
*****  
  
Robin was silent as they walked down the street. Nik smiled. He'd expected that. The little boy was fierce, that was certain. Perfect for the task he wanted to the child to someday assume. "Have you ever heard of martial arts, Robin?" he inquired.  
The boy started to shake his head, then his eyebrows knitted together and he nodded.  
Nik nearly laughed at the child's obstinacy. "Then I'm sure you know it's a way of fighting," he said. Robin perked up. "Good fighting, though. Fighting to protect, not to damage."  
"What does that mean?" he asked.  
Nik took Robin by the hand. "You'll see," he said. He pushed open the glass door to the dojo, a blast of air conditioning slapping them in their faces.  
Robin stared, wide-eyed. The dojo was one large room, with mirrors and a wood floor. There were posters and trophies everywhere, describing different tournaments and competitions. "What is this?" he asked, poking a gold trophy.  
"I am going to teach you martial arts," Nik said simply. "You will understand later. But now- you will learn."  
  
*****  
  
Robin slid his glasses up his nose and parried his mentor's blow. "Ha!" he shouted. "I got you this time!"  
Nik grinned. "Not so fast," he said. He shot out and whapped Robin straight to the floor. "I believe I win that one."  
Robin made a face and popped back up, attacking and launching back into the fight. At twelve years old, he had progressed rapidly and flourished under Nik's attention, training, and praise. He still wasn't very tall, and was incredibly thin for his age. But his scrawny body hid a tough fighter's heart. "Ha!" Robin shouted. "I win!"  
Nik laughed. Robin had managed to pin him down. The boy shouted in victory, his voice cracking and his glasses slipping. "You did indeed," he said. "I believe you are nearly ready."  
"Ready for what, Sensei Nik?" Robin asked.  
"You will see," Nik said, his tone mysterious.  
  
*****  
  
Nik stepped into his friend's office. "Are you here?" he called.  
"Of course, Nikolai." The answering voice was as calm and gravelly as ever. It hadn't changed a bit since their college days, when they competed in the same dojo. Nik walked further into the shadows. "Is your pupil almost ready?"  
"Almost," he said.  
"Good," his employer purred. "He has done well in these past years."  
"Sir," Nik began. "Do you think you could tell me what you have planned for the boy?"  
The man glanced back at him, his face blank beneath his mask. "Perhaps," he said. He stood, stretching his long legs encased in metal. "I could not simply kill him. I want him to suffer."  
"Kill?" Nik stammered. "Suffer?"  
"Yes," he said coolly. "I want him to suffer like he made my Lark suffer. I want him to suffer until he dies." The man retreated into the shadows. "His thirteenth birthday is approaching. This Tuesday, in fact. On that day, I want you to bring him here. I will officially adopt him- under a different name, of course. I will train him even harder. He will become physically my equal, my heir. And then I will fight him to the death."  
"Robert," Nik whispered. "Why would you kill the child? Who is Lark?"  
"I have not heard that name in a long time, Nik. From now on you must call me.Slade."  
  
*****  
  
Robin blinked. "What are you doing here?" he tried to say, but there was a hand over his mouth.  
"Be quiet," Nik whispered. "I'm taking you away from here. Just trust me, Robin." He picked up the twelve-year-old boy easily. Too tired to argue, Robin drooped back to sleep.  
He awoke for real four hours later, only to find he was on a train. "Where am I?" he yawned.  
Nik was watching anxiously out the window. "We're headed to Oregon," he said. "You'll be safe there."  
"Safe from what?" Robin asked. "Why did you take me away from the orphanage?"  
"It's for your own good, Robin," Nik said, his voice strained. "Just trust me."  
"But Elizabeth will be worried," Robin objected. "Can't I write and-"  
"No," Nik said, cutting him off. "You cannot tell anyone back home where you are. I can't risk letting you be found."  
Robin opened his mouth to argue again, but Nik was resolute. Robin curled up on the bench to sleep again.  
  
*****  
  
The train's final stop was at a town in western Oregon. Nik left Robin with his sister Samantha, who lived in a small house downtown. "Stay with Samantha," Nik instructed. He thrust a letter into Robin's hands. "Read this after I've left. It will explain the things you need to know." Then he walked away, leaving Robin in a strange town with a strange girl.  
Robin flopped on his bed in his new bedroom. Samantha was very nice, considering her prodigal older brother had randomly shown up, left a teenage boy with her to look after, and then vanished again. He slid his finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out the letter.  
  
Author's Note: Ooh, cliffhanger!! Don't worry, I'll write more soon!  
  
Know-it-all-san, you are a meaniehead party-pooper and deserve to be whipped with wild onions. I know quite well the so-called "real" history of the Teen Titans. In case you noticed, I did use some "real" facts. Okay, so the only one I really used was Cyborg's last name Stone, but that's okay. Some of the original comic book stuff was a little too.well, not me. (Beast Boy's name is GARFIELD?!?! Someone, please shoot me.) However, I am not writing about the comic books. I'm writing about the new animated show, where the only real cemented facts we have are that Raven has issues with her freaky-looking father, Cyborg used to be fully human, and Slade has hair that looks an awful lot like Robin's. So I am coming up with my own material. So *pppbht* on you!! But Kittengrl39, you are my new best friend!!! You are so sweet to stand up for me!! I dedicate this chapter to you! Thank you for your defense and for your kind compliments! I am greatly in your debt. 


	4. Robin Part 2

Dear Robin,  
I wish I could explain this to you in person, but I can't. All I can tell you is that your life is danger. I want you to stay here with Samantha for the time being, but I promise to come back for you. I have plans for you, great plans. I'll be sending a package to you- a book I want you to study, for one. In the meantime, keep practicing. I'm sure Samantha will prove a worthy sparring partner.  
Sensei Nik  
  
*****  
  
Nearly a week had passed before the package arrived. Sam brought it up to his room, and it was waiting for him when he came back inside. Eagerly Robin ripped it open.  
Inside were three objects- a letter, a book, and a belt. Robin pulled the letter out first and read it.  
  
Dear Robin,  
It will be some time before I will be able to return. In the meantime, keep practicing, and study this book carefully. I've marked a passage or two that I especially want you to read. Be prepared for when I return.  
Sensei Nik  
  
Robin looked at the book. It was a selection of Greek mythology. As he flipped through the pages, several passages highlighted in fluorescent green caught his eye. He stopped to study them.  
  
THE TITANS  
  
Robin read the highlighted portions avidly. The Titans, apparently, were a group of primitive superheroes, with their own abilities and gifts. He had the entire selection memorized by the time Nik returned.  
It was a rainy night- most nights were rainy in Oregon in the spring. Samantha was thrilled to see her brother, and it was with reluctance that she let Robin talk with him alone. Nik took the boy for a drive down by the coast.  
"Have you studied the book, Robin?" Nik asked.  
Robin nodded eagerly. "It was fascinating!" he said, his on-the-brink- of-teenagerhood voice cracking.  
"What about the utility belt?" Nik inquired.  
Robin nodded again. "Samantha had to teach me most of the stuff," he admitted reluctantly. "But I can handle it on my own now."  
"Good," Nik said. He pulled up in front of an unmistakably noticeable building. It was about ten or twelve stories tall in the shape of a T. Robin stared, unabashed. "There's something I'd like to show you."  
The inside of the building was fairly Spartan, full of concrete and dark floors. Nik took him to a large main room with immense windows overlooking the bay. He turned on the lights.  
"Robin," he said. "There is something I want you to do. You've been training for it since you were a small child, and I believe you are finally ready. I want you to become the leader of the ans."  
Robin's jaw dropped. "Leader- titans- what?" he stammered.  
"You won't be alone for long," Nik said. "I'll be searching out teammates for you soon. You will be in charge of defending the people here. And someday, you'll learn the truth."  
"The truth about what?" Robin said, sliding his glasses up again.  
Nik shook his head. "Those glasses have never fit you, have they, boy?" he said. He pulled something out from beneath his coat. "Take this. I'm sure it'll work better."  
Warily Robin took off his glasses, set them down on a table, and took the mask. It was lightweight in his hands, two white spaces enclosed in black. He placed it carefully on his face. It melded perfectly with his skin, covering the red, painful-looking scars and sharpening his vision like his glasses had never done.  
"Good," Nik said, pleased. "This will be your home now, Robin. I'm trusting you." He started to walk out the door, and then turned. "Oh, yes. This is for you." He took a flat, floppy package from beneath his coat and handed it to the child with a gentle smile. Then he was gone.  
All alone, Robin unwrapped the package. Inside was his old blanket, the soft yellow one that had been left with him as a baby. The badly lettered note was still pinned to it, the cheap paper yellowed. Robin pressed the soft yellow blanket against his cheek.  
  
Author's Note: Hi!!! Yes, I know this is AU, but I have worked HARD on this story, so be at least civil. Updates are coming soon, the story's coming a little slow. Next up: Cyborg's story. And then Raven, my favorite character! And I've decided to add Terra as well, but she won't appear at all until I'm done with Beast Boy and Starfire. I have my own suspicions about her that match up with this story.*laughs* Yes, I'm insane. 


	5. Cyborg

"And how are you today, Michael?"  
The nurse's voice was overly bright and cheerful. Michael scowled. "Just fine," he said.  
The nurse beamed. "I'm so glad," she said. "The doctor will be in to see you soon. He's still making the rounds. Are you ready to be fit for the prosthetics yet?"  
"No,"he said flatly. The nurse was visibly deflated. He didn't want to try the prosthetics and be disappointed. He would rather die, or spend his life in his hospital bed.  
Michael just stared out the window. His whole life now revolved around the doctor's visits. He didn't much care. At least there weren't any mirrors around. He didn't want to see what he looked like. He was missing an eye, both hands, both legs. When he was whole, amputees and crippled people gave him the creeps. Now he was one of them.  
There was a soft chatter down the hall. A church group, he guessed. Cute little kids coming to sing for the old people. They came regular as clockwork, every Sunday at two. But nobody ever came to see him. His old teammates dropped by at first, right after the accident, and he heard they all came to his parents' funeral. But they stopped. Besides, who would want to see a freak like him?  
Suddenly he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. "Who's there?" he demanded.  
A slightly sheepish looking face peeked around the corner. "Me. I got a little turned around in the halls."  
The visitor was a slim, pretty girl with soft auburn hair and clear blue eyes. She had the sweet, open look of an All-American cheerleader, gentle and soft and pretty.  
"Well, where were you headed?" Michael asked.  
"Cancer patients," she said.  
"Down the hall to the left," he said.  
"Thank you," she said. "What's your name?" He shrugged. The girl peeked at his charts. "Thank you, Michael."  
"You're too nosy," he said.  
"I know," she sighed. "It's my vice, I suppose. My name's Rory, though. It's very nice to meet you."  
"Well, it's not nice to meet you. Go away," Michael snapped. Rory shrugged and slipped out the door.  
He thought that was the last he'd see of her.  
  
*****  
  
"Hello, Michael!"  
The voice was feminine, perky, and more than a little familiar. He opened his eye. "You again?" he snarled.  
Rory beamed. "Yes," she said. She wasn't alone this time. Now she had a boy with her, a thin boy with blue eyes like her who was sitting in a wheelchair. "I just thought I'd pop back and visit. And I brought my brother this time."  
"I'm Shawn," he said. He had a warm smile like his sister.  
"What are you in for?" Michael asked.  
Shawn waved his hand. "Oh, I'm just sick," he said. "Nothing contagious, not to worry. And what about you?"  
"Isn't it obvious?" Michael snorted.  
"No," Rory said. "You seem fine to me."  
"I'm missing an eye, girlfriend!" Michael snapped. "And my hands, and my legs. You think there's nothing wrong?"  
"Your mouth works fine," Rory said, laughing. "Oh, look! You smiled!"  
"Maybe it was just gas," Shawn said to his sister.  
"Yeah, whatever, just get yourself and the Brady Bunch outta here," Michael said. "I don't feel like talking anymore."  
"Suit yourself," Rory said, wheeling her brother out. "Goodbye, Michael."  
He found himself looking forward to her visits. She came often, after school and on weekends. Sometimes she brought Shawn, sometimes she didn't. Then for one whole week Rory never appeared.  
It was a relief when she popped into his hospital room, her rosy face smiling. "Hello, Michael!" she sang.  
"Not like I care too much, but...where were you?" Michael asked.  
Rory shook her head, her long auburn hair swishing against her shoulders. "We took Shawn up to a clinic in Chicago," she said.  
"What's wrong with him?" he said.  
"The blue banana measles," Rory said promptly. "Turns his skin the color of an overripe blueberry, and he has insane cravings for bananas." Her outlandish madeup disease made him laugh. He couldn't help it. Rory clasped her hands together. "You laughed!" she crowed in delight. "I've never heard you laugh, Michael!"  
"Well, there hasn't been much to laugh about," he said.  
"You can always find at least one little thing," Rory insisted. "Laughter is the best medicine, you know."  
"Medicine can't fix my problem," Michael said.  
Rory tapped his arm. "Can't you get prosthetics?" she asked. "There's a cybernetics whiz around this building somewhere. Heard he's a bit of a recluse, but works wonders."  
"What if it doesn't work?" he shot out. "What if I get my hopes up, and it fails?"  
Now Rory's laughing face had softened into a Mona Lisa smile, soft and enigmatic. "Then you can remember the feeling and hope again," she said. She bent and kissed Michael's cheek. "Learn to hope, Michael."  
She left, and he thought.  
  
*****  
  
"Rory!" Michael called. "Guess what? They're fitting me up!"  
He thought she was going to have an apoplexy right on the spot. "Are you serious?" she gasped. "Oh, Michael, I'm so happy!"  
"Didn't think it would make you that happy," he grunted under the fierce strength of her hug. "Just wait. In a few weeks I'll be able to hug you back."  
"Shawn will be thrilled to bits," Rory said confidently.  
"What disease does he have today?" Michael asked.  
"I can't think of anything today," she said. "Maybe I'll think of something tomorrow."  
Michael remembered the look in her eyes when she said that. He puzzled over it for the next several days as he waited for Rory to return. But she never did.  
It was Rory's friend BJ who came to visit. Michael recognized him; Rory had brought him to visit a time or two. "I got some bad news, Michael," BJ said straightaway.  
"Shoot," Michael said. "I'm ready."  
"Shawn died this morning."  
He was ready for bad news, but this was a little much. "Of what?" Michael asked, thinking of all the funny diseases Rory had pretended.  
"Leukemia. It was too advanced for them to do much but make him comfortable for his last days. He died in Rory's arms. They were twins, you know," BJ said.  
"So Rory knew all this time?" Michael asked.  
"The whole time," BJ said. His eyes were dark and thoughtful. "Shawn is...was my best friend."  
"But why...why did she smile?" Michael whispered.  
BJ turned to look at him. "Before Shawn got sick, he and Ror would always say 'You've got to die laughing' when they told a funny story. When they found out Shawn had leukemia, they made that their mantra. You've got to die laughing." BJ set a note card on the side of the bed. "Rory wants you to come to the funeral. And she wants you to walk."  
"I can't," Michael said. "I've only practiced a few times."  
"It would help her," BJ said. "Please. For Rory's sake."  
Michael sank back. "I'll try," he promised.  
  
*****  
  
Nik hugged his niece tightly. "It's hard, isn't it, Rory?" he asked.  
The girl nodded. "I still wake up thinking he's in the bed across from mine," she said, her voice muffled. "And then I remember."  
Nik patted her hair. "I can't tell you anything except that I love you, sweetheart," he said.  
"I love you too, Uncle Nik," Rory said. Suddenly she broke away. "Uncle Nik, this is my friend, the one I was telling you about! This is Michael."  
Nik looked up sharply. This was the one. He was a tall, strong looking black boy, looking perfectly normal even though much of his body was covered in cybernetic prosthetics. Rory tossed his arms around his neck and burst into tears.  
"Aw, come on, Rory," Michael said, embarrassed but clearly pleased. "It isn't that big, is it?"  
"Yes, it is," she sniffed. "You have no idea. Shawn would be so happy if he could see you now." Michael gave her a shy little one-armed hug.  
"Michael, Rory tells me you lost your parents," Nik said.  
"Yes, sir," Michael said. "Last year, in a plane crash."  
"Do you have anyone looking after you now?" Nik asked.  
"Not really," he shrugged. "I've got a grandfather in Chicago, but he's in an old folks home."  
Nik was thoughtful. "Your case is intriguing," he said. "You have no legal guardian at all?"  
"No," Michael said.  
"I have a proposal for you, boy."  
And that was why, a month later, Michael found himself in a car with Nikolai Laren, headed towards a place that Nik called The Titans Tower.  
"So what is it again?" Michael asked.  
"You'll be teaming up with my ward, Robin," Nik explained. "But one thing I would like to broach to you...Robin has dropped his last name in order to remain more anonymous. Would you consider doing the same?"  
"Yeah," Michael said, thinking, as they neared the little island. "I think so."  
Nik led Michael to the tower's front door and knocked.  
A voice crackled over the intercom. "Who is it?"  
"Don't you know me, boy?" Nik laughed.  
"Hold on!" A minute or so later the door swung open and a happily grinning boy of about thirteen or fourteen greeted them. "Hi, Nik!" he said. "What brings you here?"  
"I've brought your first team member," Nik said. "Robin, this is-"  
"Cyborg," Michael said. "My name's Cyborg."  
  
Author's Note: I had soooo much trouble with writing Cyborg's part! I don't know why, it just wasn't coming to me. I actually finished Raven's part before Cyborg's. The deal with Rory and Shawn came from a story I wrote in Creative Writing last year. Originally there was another character, a guy friend of Shawn and Rory's, who was blind. Maybe if I find the original story I'll post it on fictionpress.com. And now on to Raven, my favorite an!!! 


	6. Raven

The old Laurence place was set far away from the main streets, blocked by ancient weeping willows with old Spanish moss. The decaying walls were draped in ivy, the cracked old white bricks showing through in spots. Several windows were boarded up. It was hard to believe that the bustling streets of New Orleans were only a mile or so away from this little patch of bayou.  
The twining gravel drive leading to the house was patchy with parched, amber grass. The child's shoes made almost no sound as she approached. A child seemed out of place with the decrepit antebellum wreck, and yet she seemed a part of it, with her long pale hair and her long pale dress. She walked up the front door, wrapped her small fingers around the rusted knocker, and hit it.  
The woman who answered the door was just as dilapidated as the house. Uncombed, mousy hair stuck out in all directions. Her clothes were old, remnants of the seventies and eighties, and her brown eyes were bloodshot. She squinted at the girl, taking a long drag from the cigarette dangling from her fingertips. "There ain't no kids here," she said. "Go home, kid. Unless, of course, you're a ghost. You look like one." The woman's vocal register was rough, but her voice was softened with an accent thick as honey.  
The girl stared up at her, solemn-eyed. "I'm Jamey's daughter," she said. "Jamey's girl?" the woman repeated. "She's been dead these thirteen years."But she reached out to touch the girl's cheek. "You've got Jamey's eyes." She held open the door. "Come on in, kid."  
The girl stepped into the house. It was just as tumbledown and dirty as the outside. Old furniture stood in tired attention against the walls, and cobwebs dangled from the dull arms of the chandelier. "You got a name?" the woman asked, closing the door without bothering to bolt it. The girl didn't answer. "Come on, kid. I'm talking to you."  
"Raven," she said. "My name is Raven."  
"Sounds made up. Your mama was Jamison Marie, named after our granddaddy and his wife. I'm Cameron Jo, but you can just call me Aunt Cameron, I suppose," the woman said. Her southern accent twanged the name into 'Cam'ron.' "And I suppose I better be finding you someplace to sleep. You staying long?" Raven just shrugged. Aunt Cam'ron sighed. "There ain't much in this place. But there might be something I can do."  
Raven edged her way up the stairs, following her newfound relation. Aunt Cam'ron took her to the second story down a narrow hall and opened a mildewed door. "That'll have to do, I guess," she said. "I ain't particular about mealtimes. Come down to the kitchen and scrounge something up if you're hungry." And then she left.  
  
*****  
  
"You can't stay here any longer, child," Twilight said, smoothing Raven's hair away from the bloody cut on her cheek. "It's too dangerous."  
Raven watched her. Twilight's navy hair had gone to pure white in the three and a half years since her brother's death. Her every motion spoke of heartache. "Where can I go?" Raven asked.  
"Your aunt."  
The twelve-year-old jerked away. "My what?" she repeated.  
Twilight pressed the cloth against Raven's gash. "Your mother's name was Jamey Laurence. She was raised by her older sister, your Aunt Cameron," she explained. "I must get you away from here. Away from your father. You have to stay safe. Indigo...Indigo would have wanted you as far away as possible." She sighed, stroking the girl's pale cheek. "If only I had the courage to do it sooner."  
  
Raven shook herself out of her reverie. She couldn't go back now. She tried to focus on something else to take her mind off of home.  
The room was falling apart. Crackly wallpaper printed with huge gaudy roses peeled off of the walls. The bits and pieces of furniture were mismatched and dirty. Raven wrote her name in script on the bureau's dust. She thought about lifting the shade of the window to let in some light, but decided not to when she saw a brown spider the size of a penny race around the curl. She shivered and sat down on the bed, trying to ignore the cloud of dust that rose up. A faint scrabble in the wall behind the sagging bed startled her. Raven squinched her eyes tight and decided to go downstairs.  
She lost her way a time or two on her way down. The house was much bigger than she thought. But after a time she found the kitchen. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting an orangey glow on the room when she pulled the chain. Raven opened the refrigerator door and moved around the few items, looking for something edible.  
"Yes, my dear! You shall be rich, rich beyond your wildest dreams, richer than even me!"  
The sudden voice made Raven jump. She closed the door and went in search of the sound.  
"My darling, my darling, of course! Madama Camrushka knows all! You will be famous, my darling. Ah! What is this? A vision I am having! Yes, I see you accepting an award. A great and glorious statuette, for you. Yes, I see it."  
The voice had a thick Creole accent, patronizing and humble by turns. Raven peeked around the corner. Aunt Cam'ron was sitting at her desk, the phone at her ear, speaking fluidly and waving her arms as her visions grew grander and grander.  
"Of course, my darling. All right. Be sure to call Madama Camrushka when the vision come true, yes? Yes. Goodbye." Aunt Cam'ron hung up the phone and slid her piles of cards into one neat deck.  
Suddenly she turned around. "Who's there?" she demanded, back to her normal rough Southern voice.  
Raven came out from behind the door. "It's just me," she said meekly.  
Aunt Cam'ron settled back. "Thought a gator got in the house again," she said. "'Course, they make a heck of a lot more racket than you do." She looked at her niece. "Well? You're wondering what I was doing. So go ahead and ask."  
"How did you know?" Raven asked.  
Aunt Cam'ron shrugged. "Borderline psychic, sweets. Jamey was better'n me, but she never wanted to try this. Said it was beneath her. But you know what happened to her. She shoulda stuck with hotline readings." She laughed, a horrible and raspy sound, and beckoned to Raven. "Let's see what you got, kiddo. You take the next call."  
Heart pounding, Raven sat down and stared at the phone. It rang loudly, jangling and grating on her ears.  
"Answer it!" Aunt Cam'ron urged.  
Raven picked up the phone, her fingers clutching the cold white grip. "Hello?" she said.  
"Is this Madama Camrushka's readings?" a woman's voice asked.  
Panicked, Raven looked to her aunt. "Tell her you're my apprentice," Aunt Cam'ron hissed.  
"I'm her apprentice," Raven whispered.  
"Well?" the woman said. "Are you going to give me my reading?"  
Raven fumbled with the cards. They burned her fingers. This was wrong. She just felt that this was wrong. She went back to her usual way of finding out things about people. Quietly, she reached out with her powers and felt the chakra of the woman on the line. "Do you have a son named Brian?" she asked.  
"I sure do," the woman said, pleased. "He's eighteen today."  
"His car is going to be hit by a drunk driver," Raven said. "He will die."  
The woman was silent for a moment. "Is this a joke?" she asked.  
"No," Raven said. "It's true."  
She was forced to yank the phone away from her ear as the woman screamed. Cuss words barraged her as Aunt Cam'ron pried the telephone from her grip and slammed it down. "What was that about, child?" she demanded.  
Raven blinked. "That's what I sensed," she said. "I saw the woman's son."  
"She's more powerful than Jamey ever was," Aunt Cam'ron muttered to herself, not caring if her niece heard. "Listen, kid, it doesn't matter what the truth is. You never tell 'em what the truth is. Tell 'em what they want to hear, keep 'em on the line for half an hour, and you'll be getting twenty-five to fifty bucks a call. If you tell 'em things like that bomb, you won't make so much as a cent."  
"But it was true," Raven stammered.  
Aunt Cam'ron swatted her across the face, yanking open the still- healing cut on her cheek. "You've got to do something to pay for your keep. Even if you're Jamey's kid, I don't got the money to keep you. You help out with the calls, and I'll let you stay here. You got that?" she asked.  
Raven only nodded, her hand pressed against her cheek.  
  
*****  
  
She couldn't say she enjoyed living with Aunt Cam'ron, but she got used to it. The days were always the same. During the daylight hours she would sleep or meditate, and during the night she would stay up until two, three, four o'clock in the morning, lying to people. At first it made her conscience burn to do it, but after a while the burn softened into a dull, ever-present ache. She practiced a Cajun accent so thick she could cut it with a knife and learned to answer to the name Mam'selle Rayah. Aunt Cam'ron was pleased with her progress. She bought Raven new clothes, outfits she would never choose on her own, things like midriff shirts and low-slung jeans. As often as she could Raven wore the clothes she brought from home. The earth clothes were worn the few times she went to the local junior high to keep the truant officers away. The school was big enough for her to blend into the background without being noticed.  
There was only one thing that kept her alive. Raven discovered the old library of the house. She read constantly. If it had print, she read it, no matter what language it was in. Novels, history books, schoolbooks, anthologies, medical journals- she devoured them all. The old books welcomed her company, and she welcomed their escape.  
  
*****  
  
Raven awoke slowly, her head feeling heavy. Cold fingers were combing through her waist-length hair. She squinted.  
"Jamey," Aunt Cam'ron slurred. "My baby princess sister."  
"I'm not Jamey. I'm her daughter Raven," she explained.  
"You're gonna be a beauty when you grow up, Jamey Jay," Aunt Cam'ron said. "Ain't it the truth. You gonna be the beauty of the family. Never seen a girl prettier'n you, Jamey Jay." Aunt Cam'ron hugged Raven tightly. "Ya promise not ta leave your sister, right? Never leave. Never never never. I raised ya, an' I keep ya forever."  
Raven was frozen. Aunt Cam'ron was drunk again. This happened every time. She'd come in her room, calling her Jamey. Then she'd go into her tirade about leaving her. After that Aunt Cam'ron would stagger out of the room, vomit a couple of times, and wake up with a massive hangover, forcing Raven to take over the calls for the day and the night.  
All she had to do was wait for it to be over. And then it would start again.  
  
*****  
  
"Come on, baby doll, we're goin' to town."  
Raven rubbed her eyes and sat up. Aunt Cam'ron was dressed in the gaudiest clothes she'd ever seen- if you could consider it clothes. She wore a tight gold dress with a plunging halter neckline and a barely there skirt. A green and purple garter was obvious on one of her skinny legs, and her hair was covered with a green and purple headscarf. Immense gold earrings hung to her bare shoulders. "You've gotta get up. We've got business to do," Aunt Cam'ron insisted.  
"What business?" Raven asked, climbing out of bed.  
"It's Mardi Gras. Every year I go downtown and do my readings and suchlike on the street corner. And this year you're gonna help out." Aunt Cam'ron thrust a heap of slick, shiny cloth into Raven's arms. "Put these on and come downstairs. We don't want to miss getting the best spot."  
  
*****  
  
Raven slunk behind the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. She was freezing in her costume. Hers was even worse than Aunt Cam'ron's. The outfit consisted of a gold bra top with jeweled straps, a low-slung metallic green skirt that barely covered her, and gold and purple spike heels that kept sliding off. Her long hair had been combed straight down her back and her face was painted in a green, purple, and gold butterfly design. She had never felt so ashamed or embarrassed in her life.  
"We got a great spot, kiddo!" Aunt Cam'ron crowed, pulling out a dingy crystal ball and a pack of brightly colored cards. "Work on that expression, though. You look more grumpy than mysteriously exotic." She set up her things on the table. "I'll get even more customers this year with you."  
Raven scowled and hid even further. A band was playing loudly on the street corner, drowning out any chance of her going into meditation. Aunt Cam'ron grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her back up. "Mam'selle Rayah, we have a customer," she cooed in her fake Creole accent. "Help him, won't you?" She leaned over and hissed in her ear, "Stand up and flirt a little." Aunt Cam'rn let go of her shoulder.  
Raven stood up and faked a smile. The man was skinny and disreputable looking. "And what would you like Mam'selle Rayah to find in the stars for you?" she asked.  
"If you're the psychic, you tell me," he grimaced.  
Buying time, she stared into the crystal ball. The standard options were money, fame, or true love. She decided such a desperate-looking guy would want either the first or the last. "Ah! Mam'selle Rayah can read you clear as book. You are searching for your true love," she said.  
"Don't need to be true," the man said. "Just want some lovin'." He raked his eyes over her slim body in the revealing costume. "See yourself in that vision?"  
Raven panicked. "No," she said firmly. "Mam'selle Rayah sees nothing. The glass is dark. That'll be ten dollars."  
"I'll make it a hundred," the man said, leaning forward.  
"No!" she cried, backing away so quickly she knocked over the chair. "You can have your reading free, just leave me alone!"  
Sulking, the man melded into the crowd. Raven ran to Aunt Cam'ron, her ankles wobbling in the high heels, and grabbed her wrist. "Aunt Cam'ron, I don't like this," she said.  
"Come on, kiddo, live a little," the woman purred. She was standing a little too close to a strange man with green face paint. He was running his hands over her bare back.  
"Kid's cute," he said to Aunt Cam'ron. "She dance as good as you?"  
Aunt Cam'ron disentangled herself from the man's embrace. "Don't know," she said. "Get up there and dance, honey."  
"I don't dance," Raven said.  
The man reached over and pinched her cheek. "Aw, be nice, darlin'," he said. "I just wanna see you dance."  
"No," Raven said. She had never danced in front of anyone before- only when she was alone in her room back home on Azarath.  
"Dance, Rayah," Aunt Cam'ron said. Her voice was honey but her eyes were ice. "You get up there and dance like I says or you'll regret it."  
Tears burning in her eyes, she climbed up on the table and danced. There was enough music coming from the street corner band to dance along with. A crowd started to gather, whistling and catcalling at the slender girl dancing on the table. Raven closed her eyes and wished she was anywhere but there.  
  
*****  
  
"Get up."  
"What time is it?" Raven asked blearily.  
"Doesn't matter," Aunt Cam'ron said. "We'll be heading downtown in a couple of hours, but first I gotta teach you the real way to dance, darlin'. Get dressed and come downstairs."  
Raven followed her aunt to what was once the old dining room. Aunt Cam'ron turned on an ancient tape player, and the sounds of a hiphop tape came flooding through the speakers. "You gotta loosen up when you dance," she said. "You're too uptight. Makes you look unapproachable." Aunt Cam'ron swayed her hips to the beat.  
"I don't want to dance at all," Raven said. "I don't want to go into town."  
"Too bad," Aunt Cam'ron said. "You got me a lotta money yesterday, and if you learn up good then you'll get me even more. So start dancing."  
Feeling sick to her stomach, she did. She learned how to move her hips and smile at the same time, how to hold her arms, how to show off her body. Raven bit back the wave of emotions battering her. Twilight would be weeping if she saw her now, a thirteen-year-old girl who had been forced to sell her soul.  
Aunt Cam'ron was thrilled by the money that poured in between psychic readings and her niece's dancing. "We're doing real good, kiddo," she said, her speech patterns deteriorating into the local way of talking. "Try showing some skin."  
Raven rubbed her bare arms, pressing them against her stomach. "I thought I already was," she said, her voice tight.  
"It's good, but not quite. Put your skirt lower, or let one of your straps fall," Aunt Cam'ron suggested. "You're doing great. Maybe I can get you out here to dance more often."  
Raven bit back the sobs and obeyed, obeying blindly like she was forced to all her life.  
It was nearing one o'clock in the morning when the crowds began to disperse. A cold, steady rain had begun to fall, drenching everything. Aunt Cam'ron started packing their things into her battered sedan. "Rayah, be a honey and get me my crystal ball. It's still back there somewhere," she called.  
Raven pushed herself up and went in search of it, her legs aching. The ball was tucked in the back of the booth, right where it had been left. She knelt to pick it up...and a pair of arms slid around her waist from behind.  
"Hey, baby," the voice whispered. "I been watching you."  
"Get away," Raven screamed, kicking.  
Her slight body was no match for the big man. He ran his hands over her cold, rain-slick figure. She screamed, her uncontrolled powers coming out in full. It was enough to push him back.  
Raven ran. She kicked off her shoes, running barefoot on the dirty streets. A few partygoers watched her, but none made any attempt to help her. She ran and ran until she collapsed in a quivering little heap in an alleyway, welcoming the darkness that clouded her vision.  
She awoke to find it dark and still raining. She would have gone back to sleep were it not for the hand she felt touching her face. "Get away!" she cried hoarsely.  
"It's all right, child. I'm not going to harm you," the man said, his voice kind and pleasant. "You don't need to be afraid anymore." He touched her forehead in a loving gesture that reminded her of Twilight and Indigo. "You're going to come with me, little one." He picked her up gently, wrapping a blanket around her.  
"Who are you?" she asked, keeping herself as far from him as she could.  
"My name is Nik," he said, holding her gently. "I will look after you."  
Raven buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled comforting, like cedar wood. Gradually she fell asleep against him.  
  
*****  
  
Cyborg cheered as his points racked up on the . "Yes, yes, yes!" he cheered. "I am whomping you, man!"  
Robin slunk down. "Yeah, whatever," he said. "I'll catch up."  
Suddenly a knock on the door startled them. The little cars onscreen blew up in a million sparkly pixels as they dropped the consoles.  
"We'd better get that," Robin said. The two boys cracked open the door.  
"I was wondering if you were ever going to answer," Nik smiled. "Can't I come in?" Robin held the door open wider. Nik stepped in, miraculously dry despite the pouring rain.  
"What're you holding?" Cyborg asks. "Is that a person?"  
"It is," Nik said. He shifted the small cloaked body in his arms. Gently he lifted the hood away, revealing a delicate little girl sleeping soundly in his arms.  
"A new team member?" Robin guessed.  
"Exactly," Nik said. Cyborg gazed at her. She was very small and bone- thin, her cheekbones standing out sharply. Long lavender-colored hair hung around her in damp curls. Nik noticed Cyborg staring and touched the girl's cheek. "Beautiful child, isn't she?" he commented. Cyborg nodded.  
"What's her name?" he asked.  
"Raven," Nik said. He shifted her again; she whimpered slightly. "She's a very sick little girl. You'll have to take good care of her until she's well enough to fend for herself."  
"I'll take her," Cyborg said, surprised by his own offer. Nik handed the child to him. She was incredibly light, but her whole body was hot and trembling with fever.  
"I'm trusting you two," Nik said. "I'll be back to check on you in a week or so." With that, he vanished. Robin and Cyborg were left alone with an unconscious girl.  
"So," Robin said, "what should we do?"  
"Probably let her rest," Cyborg said. "I'll carry her upstairs."  
"Okay," Robin shrugged. "You keep an eye on her for now."  
Cyborg cradled Raven in his arms and carried her to one of the spare rooms upstairs. As gently as he could he laid her down on the bed. She shivered and curled into a tighter ball to get warm. He rested his hand on her forehead; she was burning with fever. Raven whimpered again. "Hey, little girl," Cyborg said. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He draped a blanket over her body. "Robin and I will take good care of you. I promise."  
At the sound of his voice Raven blinked slowly. Her eyes were too large and too dark for her pale, thin face. "Indigo?" she whispered hoarsely. She bolted upright. "Indigo, is that you?"  
"No, it's-"  
  
"Indigo, where are you?" Raven cried. "Please, I just want to see you again!"  
Cyborg's mouth dropped open. The girl buried her face in her hands, her long hair shielding her. Cyborg put his hands on her shoulders. "Sha, love," he whispered, trying to remember the ways his own mother used to comfort him. "Sha, dear-heart. It's all right." Her tiny hot fingers curled around his cold metal ones. He laid her back down on the bed and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. "Go to sleep, Raven. I'll watch over you." Almost instantly she dropped into sleep, exhausted. Cyborg sat next to her, watching her as she slept.  
Where did she come from? he wondered. Was she an orphan? Was she abandoned? He wondered about her clothes. She looked like a baby hooker. But he decided to wait for his questions to be answered.  
  
*****  
  
It was a full day before she awoke. Cyborg was with her when she opened her eyes for the first time. "Wh- where am I?" she whispered.  
Cyborg touched her forehead. "Your fever's broken," he said, pleased. "You're in the Titans Tower. Nik brought you here. Do you remember him?"  
Raven frowned. "I think...I think so," she said. "I remember Aunt Cam'ron...and Mardi Gras...and the...oh!" Her eyes widening in fear, she backed away from him, pulling the blanket up to her neck. "Please don't touch me. I'll give you a reading free, but just don't touch me. I didn't want to dance. It was Aunt Cam'ron's idea."  
"What?" Cyborg said. "I don't have any idea of what you're saying, Raven. I don't want a reading, I've never seen you dance, and I have no idea who Aunt Cam'ron is."  
Raven relaxed slightly. "Is this...tower in New Orleans?" she asked.  
"Nope. Oregon," Cyborg told her. "Closer to California, actually. You can even see the Cali beaches from the windows upstairs."  
Now Raven had relaxed enough to lean against the pillows and look up at him. Her long lavender hair hung over her shoulders to her waist. She was still wearing the bedraggled costume she'd worn that long-ago night in New Orleans, the gold top drooping over her tiny breasts. Cyborg felt bad for her. She looked like such a baby, but her eyes were old beyond her years.  
There was a knock on the door. Nik came in, Robin at his heels. "Hello, Raven," Nik greeted, touching her hand. "I see you're getting acquainted with Cyborg. Here's the other member of the team. This is Robin." Raven nodded, almost shy. Nik's big, rough hands were gentle as he stroked her hair. "Your fever's gone down, but you should stay in bed for a while, little one," he told her. "The boys will take good care of you."  
Raven nodded in thanks again. With a tilt of his head, Nik instructed the boys to leave. "Now, child," Nik said. "Tell me. How can we help you?"  
"I don't need help," Raven said sullenly, sinking down in the soft bed that miraculously was not dusty nor smelled like dead leaves. "I was doing fine on my own."  
"Fine?" Nik repeated. "Your aunt was using you. She exploited you. How old are you, child? Ten? Eleven?"  
"Thirteen," she said, not daring to look up.  
"You're so young. Too young to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders." Raven still didn't look up, but she didn't pull away when Nik held her hand. He had a very gentle, fatherly way about him that calmed her down. "You'll be living here from now on, child. You'll be a an."  
"A Teen what?" Raven tried to ask, but she was interrupted by a yawn. Nik laughed softly and pulled the blankets around her.  
"You'll find out soon enough. But for now, go to sleep," he said. Raven was only too willing to obey.  
  
*****  
  
Robin glanced up. "Hey," he said, smiling. "Are you sure you're ready to be up yet?"  
The slight girl nodded. "I'm fine," she said. She was as skinny as a stick and her face was still as white as paper.  
"You like the clothes Nik found for you?" Robin asked.  
Raven nodded, but didn't say anything else. "The belt's a little big," she commented. It was too large to cinch around her tiny waist, so it hung to one side of her narrow hips.  
Robin opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by the beeping of the Titans alarm. Cyborg poked his head in. "Where's the trouble?" he asked.  
"Downtown," Robin said. "Looks like it's the library."  
"The library?" Cyborg repeated. "What bad thing could happen in a library?"  
"No idea," Robin shrugged. "Oh, well. Titans, GO!"  
Raven followed them, looking a little bemused.  
  
*****  
  
Nik was ready for the call. He picked up his phone and answered it on the first ring.  
"She has no idea how to fight."  
Nik smiled. He could practically see the sulking look on Robin's face. "I know," he said, enjoying the moment.  
"You knew? You knew that that little girl is a liability waiting to happen? You knew that she could have gotten us all killed? You knew that she would need us to come and rescue her?" Robin shouted. "Why didn't she defend herself?"  
"She doesn't know how," Nik said.  
"Doesn't know how to defend herself?" Robin repeated, incredulous. "Why not?"  
"Raven has spent her entire life controlled. Controlled by her powers, by her fears, by people who exploit her. She can't defend herself from them. I want you to not only teach her how to defend herself, but teach her how to be free."  
There was a long pause. "We'll take care of her," Robin said.  
  
Author's Note: Raven is my favorite character and her part came a lot easier to me. But it seems to be PG-13. Sorry. Anyway...Beast Boy is next! 


	7. Raven Blurb

He paused outside the door, not sure if he was hearing correctly. Cyborg turned up the auditory levels, and, sure enough, he could hear soft whimpers coming through the door.

Cautiously he tapped it open. "Raven?" he called.

The quiet snick-snick of scissors was his only answer.

"Raven, what are you doing? What's wrong?" he asked.

The girl turned around. She was sitting on the middle of her bed, a pair of gleaming scissors in her hand. "Get out of my room!" she said, her voice fierce.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Cyborg insisted, crossing his arms.

Raven sighed. "I'm cutting my hair," she snapped.

With a start Cyborg noticed for the first time that on one side of her head, her hair was shoulder-length and choppy, while the on the other side her long hair flowed over her shoulders to her waist. "Why?" he asked.

Raven set down the scissors and looked at him, yet somehow not seeing him. "Where I come from, the women cut their hair to mourn for someone," she said. "There was...someone. Someone who loved me very much, and I was not permitted to mourn for him." She glanced at the scissors. "This is no ceremonial dagger, but at least I'm remembering him."

"I understand," Cyborg said. "Let me help you."

"I don't need you," Raven spat. "You don't have anyone to mourn over like I do."

"Yes, I do," he countered quietly. "Let me help you, Rae."

Her wide navy eyes stared up at him and then blinked once slowly, her lashes brushing her cheeks. "All right," she conceded.

Cyborg ran his fingers through her long, silky hair and finally brought himself to cut it, the scissors sharp and quick. Soon most of Raven's thick hair littered the floor. "How's that?" he asked.

"Very nice," Raven said. "And now, please leave my room."

Knowing not to push it, Cyborg obeyed. But as he left, he heard a timid voice whisper to him.

"Thank you for calling me Rae."

Author's Note: This is just a brief reentry back into the story! Sorry for the long time without an update. The Beast Boy chapter will be coming soon, and then Starfire. The thing is, I have more ideas for Terra, so I went ahead and wrote her part, but I have to write BB and Star before I can put up Terra! ohthehorror! Anyway...hope you're glad to have me back.


	8. Merge

"Keep your arms up," Robin instructed. "Don't let me reach your stomach or your chest; otherwise I can get to your heart and lungs too easily."

Raven's breath came hard as she struggled to keep up with Robin's blows. His moves were quick, almost too quiet for the inexperienced little fighter to match.

"No, no, if this was a real fight, your left lung would be deflated by now," Robin said. He wasn't even breathing hard, and a look of exasperation was beginning to spread across his face. "You have to pay attention, Raven."

"I _am_," the thirteen-year-old girl snarled, lashing out. Robin blocked her easily, almost lazily, sending Raven's frustration up a notch. She dodged a blow and jumped up to another platform.

"Just wait till I increase the simulation difficulty level," Robin threatened. "You won't be able to keep up at all."

Raven swallowed her answers in an effort to focus on the fight. Her scrawny body ached mightily.

Suddenly the simulator switched off. Raven found herself in a nearly empty room, staring at a surprised Robin.

"That's enough," Cyborg said, his voice distorted through the intercom. "Man, you're working that little girl to the bone. Time for a break."

Raven collapsed on the floor, sucking in huge gulps of air. Robin scowled, muttered under his breath, and stalked out. A big strong arm wrapped around Raven's body and lifted her to her feet. "C'mon, baby girl, it's time for you to take a break," Cyborg said. She was too tired and sore to argue, or even snarl at the nickname. Apathetically she let Cyborg pick her up and carry her to the safety of her bedroom.

-

"You're working her too hard, man."

Robin shrugged. "She needs to toughen up," he said.

"If Raven got any harder she could crack a diamond," Cyborg said. "We should be helping her learn to be human, not teaching her how to slam people into the ground. She's just a kid. She's gotta have fun, not a nervous breakdown."

"Oh, she'll be fine," Robin said.

"Look," Cyborg said. "She's our responsibility. We can't wear her down like this."

"Whatever," Robin sighed. "If you're so worried, you can take over her training."

"Fine with me, as long as you don't mind if she ends up fighting like a boy," Cyborg grinned.

The two were interrupted by the chirping of Robin's communicator. He flipped it open.

"Robin, Cyborg," Nik said. "I found you another teammate."

-

-

-

Author's Note: Sorry this is so short, but hey, it's been a five month hiatus! But I'm back, finally with some new ideas! I don't know why, but I had a HORRIBLE time trying to come up with BB and Star ideas…still don't have much for Star…I wrote Terra's almost immediately…anyways, I hope y'all are still speaking to me…but I promise to upload some new stuff soon!

Also...this scene was inspired by the line that Jinx says to Raven in the third episode: "You fight like a boy!" Why would she fight like a boy? Because Robin and Cyborg trained her, that's why-hugs chibi Raven-


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